Carvings
by SilverWinterr
Summary: Ed went missing two months ago during an inspection of East City. When Al and Roy finally find him, they find the shell of a person and have to help him recover from both his physical and mental torment. However, he could be too broken from them to fix. Parental!Roy. Rated M for violence/torture, adult themes, and trigger warnings.
1. Chapter 1

_**Warning! This fanfiction will cover, and describe, in some detail, torture, rape, self-harm, suicide, and lots of angst. Don't read if this offends/disturbs you. If you read it anyways, please don't complain about it. You can always read another fanfiction.**_

 _No pairings, but Parental!Roy and brotherly fluff later on._

 _I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, but I wish I did._

* * *

He was running through the streets, his bare feet splashing through the puddles that littered the ground. It must have rained last night, but he wasn't surprised that he didn't notice. Even if the building hadn't been soundproofed, he doubted he would have been able to hear anything else beyond the screaming.

" _You're going to tell me today, aren't you?"_

He had to get away.

" _Are you doubting how long you can keep this up?_

He couldn't go back.

" _I told you, even if you did survive…"_

Get away.

" _...nobody would want you back."_

Get away!

" _You're worthless."_

GET AWAY!

There was a pothole in the ground and his whirling, panicked brain could barely process where he was going, not saying anything about where he was putting his feet. He felt himself unbalance as his flesh leg dipped into the street and he tumbled forward, unable to keep himself up. He hissed as he felt the skin on his foot tear open on the rough edges of the cement and he threw out his hand to stop his fall, scraping up his palm.

There was a loud splash as he fell head-first into a puddle and then went quiet as he lay there, breath coming in frantic gasps, muscles shivering with exertion. After even a few days of locked in a cell, his muscles had weakened and even this far of a run was a stretch. And the wounds inflicted on his body further damaged his plan of escape; every cut, bruise, and...other injuries were stinging and throbbing, his entire body alight with pain. He couldn't move...but he had to get away!

"Which way did he go?"

"Check down every alley! We must find him!"

Panic flared in his chest as he heard all too familiar voices calling from the edges of the streets. He raised his head and shakily got to his feet, grimacing as pain shot through his foot. He didn't look down - any more wounds could put a dent in his moral and it was important that he stayed strong. This could be his only chance.

Taking a deep breath to try and calm his fluttering heartbeat, he turned away from the voices and started to run again, trying to ignore the agony that was spreading through his leg.

"There he is!"

 _They found me!_ He didn't look back, only hastened his pace, desperately trying to escape the voice and the footsteps behind him. He had to get away! He couldn't go back there!

 _The cell was dark and damp and bloodstains littered the floor. The rusted chains binding his limbs were cold and sent shivers crawling up his body. He heard the distant sound of a creaking door and flinched. Fear crawled in his stomach, wondering what torment he would go through next._

All of a sudden, there was a loud bang and something small plunged into his shoulder, the force of its flight sending him sprawling forward. He felt his shoulder blade break from the bullet and he couldn't help but let out a scream from the pain.

A weight smashed down on his back and he felt something cold and solid press against his back.

"Don't move," the voice snarled, "Or I'll pump you full of lead."

He froze, knowing that that wasn't an empty threat and even death wouldn't save him - the man holding the gun was extremely adept using that weapon and knew exactly how to shoot not to kill. He would know, he'd been faced by the barrel of that gun enough times.

He had failed. He had tried to get away, but he had failed. Images flashed through his head, of the dark, damp cell, of the silver gun and the bloodstained knife. The world he would return to. And the world he would not. He felt tears collecting in his eyes as he saw his brother looking down at him and a dark-haired man, his arms crossed across his chest. He had failed them...he would never see them again.

He heard the sound of a second set of footsteps, heavier then the man on his back. In his field of vision, he suddenly saw a man, thick headed with a mangled nose, with stubble lining his face and messy brown hair. His exhales smelled of smoke and rot and everything that the boy hated and feared. A smile lit up his face.

"Thought you could escape, could you? Well, I'll have you know that things will be worse from now on. Breath the fresh air, Fullmetal Alchemist. It might be the last time you ever do."

* * *

 _And there's the first chapter! I have no idea when I'll update this, this was just an idea that I had and I don't have much of a plot in mind right now. Hopefully I'll get one._

 _Please review and tell me what you think and, if you enjoyed, give it a follower/favorite!_


	2. Chapter 2

_EDIT: I ended up straight up deleting the previous chapter 2 since it was boring and unnecessary._

 _I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, but it's probably a good thing that I don't. Everyone would probably be sad all the time._

* * *

 _I don't know how much longer I can do this._

Alphonse Elric sunk to the ground, his soul quivering with exhaustion and his armor banging against the cement. He crossed his legs and put his head in his hands, lost, confused, and running out of hope. Two months had gone by, two months without so much as a whisper of Ed's whereabouts. He was starting to lose any speck of faith that he would ever see his brother again. Two months was a long time to wait, especially when you spent the nights alone.

Against Mustang's orders, and even the Fuhrer himself, Alphonse had gone poking around in places were gossip said that the resistance group could be found. He hadn't spent the last two months walking around Amestris, or even searching for a way to get his body back. No, it was all for Ed, all for brother. And his searching was probably in vain.

The ground around him was wet - it must have rained last night. Al looked to the side and reached down to touch a puddle nearby, his gloved fingers slipping into the cold liquid. He didn't feel it. The coldness, the wetness, not even the change of matter. He couldn't feel anything. As he raised his now wet glove back out, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of desperation. Al missed the feeling of water, from jumping into pools, taking a relaxing bath, or just running around in the rain, jumping into puddle, getting his hair all wet, and, ha, that one time he pushed brother into the water.

But now brother was gone, and Al had no idea where he could have gone. And it was his fault, all his fault. If only he had stayed behind...

 _"Well, we should probably report back to the Colonel, now that we're done with our inspection," Al told his brother as they walked through the streets of East City._

 _"Yeah," Ed replied, looking at his notebook, where he had been recording any signs of rebellion in the city. "He's going to be disappointed, we barely found anything of note."_

 _"Seems like they're not here after all."_

 _"Yeah." Ed snapped the book shut and stuffed it into his pocket. He turned to Al with a big smile on his face. "Well, at least now we can get back to finding a way to get your body back, right?"_

 _"Right!" Al nodded. It was a bummer that they're inspection had turned up zero results, and Al, in the back of his mind, was a little worried that they had missed something. However, he was still anxious to continue their search._

 _They walked down the deserted street in silence after that. They were in the poorer side of East City, where the houses were squeezed tightly together and only a few streetlamps that littered the road actually worked. So they hiked back in semi darkness. It put Al a little on edge, but he was confident that they would be able to protect themselves should someone, for whatever reason, attack._

 _Suddenly, Ed froze. Al stopped and looked back, confused. His brow was furrowed in concentration and he looked tense. "What wrong, brother?"_

 _"Someone's following us," he hissed._

 _All of a sudden, roars erupted from all over the street. From every alleyway, men and women appeared from the darkness, their faces hidden beneath anything from cloth and bags to paper masks. They wielded guns, knives, and many simply had their fists. Ed whipped around to face the group coming at him and quickly transmuted his arm into a blade. Alphonse turned his back and raised his fists and the two brothers prepared to fight. The fighters were on them in an instant._

 _It was chaos, the two brothers desperately trying to swing, punch, or cut anyone that got too close, but there were so many. They were outnumbered and overwhelmed in an instant. Al quickly lost sight of his brother while he did everything in his power to fend off the attackers. He lashed out blindly, feeling his fist connect over and over, hearing the surprised yells as men were thrown back by his strength. He could barely comprehend anything; he had no idea how long they were there, but his armor started quivering against his will. He tried to break away from the masses, but their ranks for so huge and thick that he could barely move anymore to defend himself._

 _All of sudden, there was a flash of blue light and the men surrounding Alphonse were sent hurtling away by a large fist transmuted from the street cement. Alphonse whipped around and saw Ed with his hands on the ground with stone fists popping out of the ground left and right. He clapped again and touched the street next to him and a spear suddenly appeared in his hand._

 _"Run for it, Al," he yelled as the men started to close in on them again, "your armor's damaged! Any more of this and they'll hit your seal. Don't worry, I'll catch up!_

 _"No way," Al cried, "I'm not leaving you here!"_

 _Ed gritted his teeth and looked around. The attackers had almost regrouped. He sighed and threw his spear to the side. "Sorry about this, Al."_

 _He clapped and slapped the ground and, all of a sudden, the cement next to Al split and a huge hand appeared. Realizing what he was about to do, he tried to run, but Ed was too fast. The hand wrapped itself around his body and, all of a sudden, he was flying through the air._

 _"Brother!" Al tried to turn his head to try and got a last glimpse of Ed before he fell to the earth and all he saw was a red coat getting completely engulfed by the dull colors of the resistance._

Al looked up. He had been pulled out of his memory by a sound, a voice. Two, actually, calling to each other. They sounded like they were looking for someone. He looked around, but didn't see anything. And then he jumped from his spot when he heard the sound of a gunshot and a loud scream coming from nearby. That scream...it couldn't be...

Trying to remember the direction he heard the noise, Alphonse took off, his armor clanking loudly as he sped through the streets. But he didn't care, he just needed to get to that scream.

Finally, when Al turned the corner into a deserted alley, he heard another scream that was quickly muffled. It was coming from the end of the street. Realizing that he didn't want to alert anyone, should he have finally picked up a trail, he slowed his pace until he was almost tiptoeing down the street. As he got closer, he noticed specks of blood littering the ground and he shuddered to think about whose it was.

When he finally got to the edge of the street, he carefully peered around, but was disappointed; it was completely deserted. But when he turned around to return back to his hotel, he happened to look down and see more blood, just a couple of specks.

It took Alphonse a moment to realize what that meant. He turned his head and realized that there was more, a couple of feet away. No way...there was no way that this group that was so careful and so evasive for two whole months could make a mistake like this. But then again, how was it even possible that he had just heard Ed's voice if he was supposed to be missing?

And what if it was a trap? To lure the second brother away? He could get caught easily if he faced the same attack as last time. Without Ed with him, he wouldn't stand a chance.

After a moment, he decided that he didn't care - this small speck of hope was all that he had and he wasn't going to miss this opportunity.

It took him a long time to finally get to the end of the blood trail, with all the twists and turns through alleyways and side streets. It disappeared near the back of a building that, upon further inspection, was connected to a small, run-down bar called The Coliseum.

Uplifted by this new information, Alphonse rushed away to phone the Colonel immediately.

* * *

"Havok, Breda, and Falman, take your men and position yourself at the back entrance," Mustang commanded. The three men nodded and, followed by a number of other soldiers, left Hawkeye, Mustang, Alphonse, and the rest of the forces where they stood in the alleyway. One week ago, Alphonse had frantically phoned Mustang's office with a strong possibility for Ed's whereabouts. The Colonel had immediately contacted all of the undercover offices under his command that were stationed in Central City and had them investigate The Coliseum. Although they had not turned up with information concerning the Fullmetal Alchemist, they had heard that the bar was a frequent location for members of the resistance, from meetings and drop offs to relaxation and celebration. While it took a while to get all the information together, he finally was able to piece together enough information that would suffice for a raid. Armed with this knowledge, he had appealed to the Fuhrer to lead a raid on the bar. He had allowed them to go.

"I need fifteen men to station themselves outside," Mustang ordered to the soldiers remaining. "Make sure nobody leaves. The rest will follow me into the building. Do not let a single person out until we have completely inspected the area."

"Yes, sir," they chanted in unison. Mustang narrowed his eyes. Despite the fact that his focus was cold and clear and dread boiled in his stomach, he could not help but allow himself the slightest bit of satisfaction at the discipline of his men. Hopefully, for their sake, the battle would not be bloody.

He walked up to the corner of the brick wall and peered around the edge. The bar was not far. Hopefully, nobody would see them coming and raise the alarm before they could break in. Any forewarning would ruin the surprise and possibly send them running with their hostage in tow. He could not allow that.

But, as Mustang was about to step out onto the pavement and give his men the signal to move out, he hesitated. He realized what he was about to walk into, what he was going to find...and he found himself afraid. Afraid of the harm that had been done to his subordinate and the guilt he would have to bear. It was his fault, after all...his fault that Ed had been missing for two months. And now half of him didn't even want to know what kind of damage that had done to the poor boy. He was only fifteen.

"Colonel." Mustang felt a large, strong arm settle on his shoulder. He glanced back and was faced with the metal head of Alphonse. And from one look, despite him not having a physical face, Mustang knew he was scared too.

He reached up and placed his hand on top of Al's for one moment before turning back and letting it fall away. "Move out."

With haste and purpose, he stepped onto the pavement, stashing all fears and uncertainties to the back of his head. They had a mission to accomplish and now was not the time to be afraid; now was the time to act.

Following Mustang's lead, the force practically sprinted up to the door of the bar. Without pausing, the Colonel grasped the handle and wrenched open the door. As he stepped into the bar, he was faced with a dirty, dim room with only a few people occupying the old, rotting wooden chairs and tables spread across the floor. A large woman with curly brown hair was standing at the back of the bar, her back to the door. As Roy's men flooded into the bar, Hawkeye let out a shot pointed at the ceiling as Mustang called, "Nobody move and hands in the air! So much as twitch your finger and you'll feel a bullet in your arm."

To accentuate this, every single person in the room suddenly had a gun facing their way and the woman behind the bar, who had whipped around with shock, was faced with a large suit of armor, a woman with a shotgun, and a very angry raven haired man. Fear clouded her eyes as she slowly backed away from the advancing team.

"I said don't move!" Mustang roared, holding out his hand, preparing to snap should she make another move. She froze where she was, her eyes raking all the men that had now invaded the bar. Without warning, she leaped towards the bar, her hand outstretched, but a loud bang rang out in the stuffy room and she was thrown back, a large tear in her clothes at her shoulder that was beginning to dye red. Her head hit the wall and she slumped to the floor, unconscious.

In any other case, Roy would have cringed at the loud noise, as it would have alerted the enemy. However, his intelligence had reported that any secret room in the building was heavily soundproofed so that conversations, or screaming, that was happening inside said room couldn't be heard at all. However, pretty much all noise from the outside was cut off as well.

The people in the bar were frozen with fear, their hands held high over their heads. One woman had started to cry, but no mercy was shown by the soldier that had his gun trained at her chest. Roy turned, looking for any kind of door that would lead to the basement, and then spotted it, far in the corner and hidden by shadow.

"If you have your gun pointed at someone, you stay here. Drossen, Proch, you stay here too. Everyone else, with me. When we get to the basement, spread out and search every inch."

"Yes sir," they chanted in unison.

Mustang swept through the door, Alphonse, Hawkeye, and the rest of the team right on their heels. The basement was not much better then the upstairs, with dusty barrels lining the walls, stains and rot covering the floor. At least the cabinets, where he assumed the food was kept, looked clean enough. True to their superior's orders, the men immediately fanned out and started to overturn barrels, open drawers, and shift the furniture. Roy, Alphonse, and Hawkeye took positions in the center, monitoring the soldiers work.

Mustang thought his heart was going to jump out of his chest. Before he had walked in, he had only a little bit doubt that this place would be where Edward was being held. Now, however, he was sure of it. The place, especially here, in the basement, was cloaked heavily with an air of misery and anger. There was something to be found here, something both good and evil. And he felt that same twinge of fear for what they would find.

"Freeze!" The three in the center whipped around to face where the voice had shouted. There was the sound of many guns turning and clicking towards their new target. At one end of the room, a door had appeared in the stone wall and three men, one small, with a mustache and black hair, another taller one with gray hair, and a thick grizzly man smoking a cigarette. They were frozen in place, their faces wide with shock and fear. Immediately, Mustang marched over to them and pushed them out of the way, unconcerned with the men themselves. It was the door they had just opened that he was interested in. He had to take deep breaths to contain his fear; the tunnel behind them reeked of hate.

"Colonel, wait," Hawkeye called. He stopped moving for a second and looked back. He saw a flash of something flying in the air and immediately raised his hand to catch it. It was a set of keys on a loop. "One of the men had it on his belt."

"Thanks." His chest felt a little tight from the power of the malice before him so he didn't trust himself to say anything else. He turned and proceeded into the tunnel, hearing the clinking of armor as Alphonse followed him. He was unconcerned with this - Al had a right to be there.

The flight of stairs was not very long, but it felt like it took an eternity to reach the bottom. Every step, the air seemed to get thicker and more disgusting, almost to the point where Roy felt unsure if it was even safe to breath. However, he continued nonetheless. Once he reached the bottom, he was faced with a small corridor, with a few rooms breaking off and one large, ominous steel door at the very end. As they stepped down the hallway, Roy managed to catch a glimpse of a couple of the rooms. The first seemed almost like a regular meeting room, with a table and a few chairs that looked a little uncomfortable. The other one had a number of tables with all sorts of devices and tools and a table in the center, armed with restraints and covered with blood. He felt bile rise in his throat and the fear came back again.

Finally, they reached the door and they both knew that this was it. Finding the correct key that would fit, Roy unlocked the door and let it swing open.

The cell was dark and damp and bloodstains littered the floor. Despite the heavy door that blocked the way in, there was still a cage inside the room. And inside that cage, lying against the wall, was a naked figure covered in blood. A figure so thin and lifeless that, for a moment, Roy wondered if he was dead. But then he realized that he could faintly hear a rasping breath coming in that direction. Shock coursed through his body and he let out a small gasp, not wanting to admit the sight that he was seeing before him was actually real. Because Edward Elric had never been defeated before and this person in front of him was utterly crushed and destroyed.

But the blond hair and the automail leg confirmed his fears that this was, indeed, the Fullmetal Alchemist.

He heard Al make a sound behind him, but Mustang held out his arm, stopping the armored kid from advancing too quickly. He knew that this situation was going to be delicate, but this had taken it to a completely different level. There was no such thing as being too careful.

Quietly and slowly, he found another key that would open the cage door and unlocked it, trying not to let the bars squeak too much as they opened so as not to frighten him. Once he was inside the cell, he was able to step up to Edward's side and see how horrible his wounds actually were.

Almost every inch of his body was either covered with dry, drying, or fresh, wet blood. Any skin that was visible beneath it was darkened with bruises and burns. His automail arm seemed to have been ripped out and the port where it had been before was blackened and the wires almost looked charred. The fingers on his flesh hand were stuck at weird angles and the nails had been ripped out.

Only when Roy looked at his face did he realize that his eyes were open. But the golden eyes that had so often glared at him with fire and energy were now dull, lifeless, and unseeing. He didn't even seem to notice that there was someone standing in front of him, or maybe he didn't care. He could have been dead if it hadn't been for the scratching, forced breaths coming from his body.

Mustang couldn't help it. Tears welled in his eyes as he started at this pitiful sight. Ed had always been fiery, hot-headed, and determined. Now, however, it was hard to see the young, energetic state alchemist beyond this figure that could only be described as utterly defeated.

"Brother..." Al whispered behind him, the quiet clanking giving away the shivers going through his armor. Roy didn't look back. He didn't want Al to see the tears on his face or the anger that etched itself onto every inch of his facial features. And he didn't want to face the brother of the child that he had sent to this hell.

Instead, he gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and took a deep breath. Once again, he steeled himself. They could cry and grieve for this later. Right now, they had to get Ed out of here and to a hospital.

"Come on, Al," Mustang whispered as he crouched down. "Let's get him out of here."

* * *

 _Okay, I had to redo this chapter because it used to be completely Al's perspective and that was it, but I was getting sick of waiting. Also, I hope that I'm not making everyone super out of character. This is my first fanfiction and it's harder to capture their personalities then I thought._

 _So, as usual, leave a review and tell me what you think! Constructive criticism is highly appreciated! And if you enjoyed, feel free to favorite/follow._


	3. Chapter 3

_As usual, I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. This makes me sad._

* * *

It was warm...so warm. Ed couldn't remember the last time he was so warm. He thought that the entire world had descended from warmth. It felt so good to be warm again. But everything hurt, every inch of his body felt dirty, vile, and destroyed. He could feel every nick on his body like it was a brand new cut in his skin. He felt the ghost of encrusted blood that had been cleaned off and the sting of bandages on his body. So he couldn't be dead, right? If he could feel this then he couldn't be dead. But life was not so warm and so comfortable and he couldn't have bandages, could he?

He could hear voices, whispering nearby. He instinctively tensed up, knowing that they could easily hurt him while he was like this, but then he relaxed. There was nothing they could do to him that they haven't already done. Ed could not think of anything else that they could do that would hurt him anymore then they already had. Besides, did it really matter? Did he really matter? If he was worthwhile, then he would have been able to get away from them. Or not get captured in the first place.

"...broken ribs, his fingers have been completely crushed, wounds all over his body..."

That voice didn't sound familiar. There was a flash of fear. If they had brought someone new, would they have something else to torture him with? Something that was somehow worse then what they had done already?

"Ed?"

The voice was so nearby and so unexpected that he snapped open his eyes and almost jumped out of the bed he was resting in.

At first, he was confused. The room he was in was all white. There were monitors and machines around the walls and a couple of chairs nearby. This wasn't right. The cell was dark, spattered with blood and grime, and behind a wall of bars that were connected to a large solid door. Where they would always come through. There was nothing about it that was light or clean or so open.

And there was someone sitting next to him. A large suit of armor that was so familiar, so real.

Ed stared at his brother. He had to be a hallucination. Besides, he had seen his brother many times while in the cell. They liked to spike his food with hallucinogens. He had seen Alphonse many times, and he was never any happy.

 _"Why did you do that to me, brother? You know you weren't strong enough to take them by yourself. You're weak. You should just die. I don't care about you, brother. I never did. You're the one who made me lost my body, after all. It's your fault I can never feel, I can never sleep. It's all your fault. I hate you."_

But he looked so real this time. And this room, he had never hallucinated an entirely new place before. He reached out with his flesh arm and touched the tip of his brother's chestplate. It was cold to touch, but it was solid, it was there.

Emotion welled up inside of Ed as he realized what this meant.

"Alphonse..." he whispered, still barely believing his eyes, "is that really you?" He needed to confirm it, to hear his brother while touching his body, that it really was him.

"Yes, brother," Al replied, his voice shaking a little, "it's really me. You're safe now."

"I'm sorry." Ed felt his throat constrict as tears started to well in his eyes. "I should have let you stay. I shouldn't have thrown you away. I'm sorry, it's all my fault, I couldn't do anything..." The memories of his shameful display started to flash behind his eyes and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block them out. His hand came to his head and instinctively started scratching at his face, as if he was trying to scrape off the guilt. He knew what his brother thought of him, he hated him for what he did. It was his fault he got caught, it was his fault that Al had worried, it was his fault his little brother had lost his body, it was his fault that he could never protect him...

"No, Ed, stop." He felt a large, gloved hand gently wrapping around his wrist, pulling it away from his face. Immediately, his heart skipped a beat and he was thrown back in time.

 _His wrist was bound, along with his ankle and a thick strap for his neck. He tugged at the rope around his arm, but it wouldn't budge. It was strong and tight; they weren't taking any risks. The skin there was raw with his struggling and all the times he had struggled before and it stung to move, but he would never stop fighting._

 _He turned his head as he saw movement in the corner of his eye. It was Jason, a cigarette in the corner of his mouth and a small knife in his hand. He reminded Ed a little of Havok and how he always smoked on the job. But this man was not kind and gentle and he most certainly wasn't a friend._

 _He moved forward until he was standing over Ed, a huge grin on his face. "So, are you going to talk today, pipsqueak?"_

 _"Who are you calling small?" Ed hissed as he spat at the man looming over him. He merely laughed back and didn't say another word as he descended with the knife. It touched the exposed skin on Ed's stomach and deftly cut a slit into the skin made weak and thin from undernourishment. Jason began to drag the small knife across his skin and blood instantly welled and started to drip down Ed's side._

 _As Jason carved into his skin, Ed bit into his tongue, trying to hold back his screams. He would not give the man the pleasure of knowing that he was getting to him. But his skin was on fire, he could feel the metal cutting through his body. Every nerve was alight with pain and every instinct told him to flee, to get away, to get that knife away from his stomach and stop the man spilling his blood. His arm pulled against the restraints, but the straps held him in place. They were too strong. His legs kicked, but they were no more effective. He couldn't do it, he wasn't strong enough to fight back. He couldn't stop this man from hurting him._

 _"That's right," he crooned as he continued to carve Ed's skin, "you're weak. You're worthless. You can't even stop me from cutting you up, you can't even protect your own body. How are you going to ever be of use to anyone else? How are you going to protect your brother? You're useless to him."_

 _"No..." Ed moaned against his will, a gasp of pain leaving his throat as the knife cut into a half-healed wound that had been inflicted on him a couple days ago. The pain was too much, he couldn't do it, he couldn't bear it, he just wanted to die._

 _And his scream of pain was mixed with Jason's cackling as blood dripped down the table and pooled onto the floor._

* * *

Alphonse jumped away with surprise, overturning his chair at the horrible scream that erupted from Ed's lips. The small boy scrambled away from him, clutching his stomach with the one arm he had. His feet kicked forward, upsetting the sheets and rattling the bed with the force at which he struck out. His eyes were wild and terrified and they had adapted a mistiness that let Al know he wasn't in his right mind.

But still, it scared the younger brother and he stood there, frozen, completely at a loss of what to do.

"I'm sorry, Ed," he stammered, reaching out again to console him, "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"Get away from me!" Edward screamed, lashing out at Al's outstretched hand with his foot. "Go away, don't touch me! You've done enough, please...stop!"

Al recoiled, as if he had been stung. What was he supposed to do? Ed was completely out of it, like he wasn't even there anymore.

Ed's hand bunched in his stomach as tears collected in the corner of his eyes. His breath was coming in short gasps and his eyes were looking away as if there was something there that nobody else could see. His eyes were wide with fear and hysterics and he lashed about in the bed, as if trying to get away from someone. Eventually, he curled up away from Al, his entire body shaking violently.

"What happened?" Alphonse looked up desperately and saw Roy Mustang and Ramona Kott, Ed's doctor, burst into the room. It was the doctor that spoke, rushing up to Ed's side and checking the heart monitor, which was beeping out of control.

"I don't know," Al wailed, clutching his head with his hands, "I touched his hand and he freaked out!"

Kott nodded and turned to the IV that was connected to Ed's arm. She quickly connected a tube and a light blue liquid flowed through and into his arm. Immediately, Ed's form began to relax and he stopped shaking.

It was a miserable sight. The once proud young alchemist, fiery and full of spirit, here in this hospital bed, curled into himself and completely breaking down at even the slightest of touches. There were tear tracks down his face and his hand was still wrapped protectively around his waist. Al wanted nothing more then to take his brother into his arms and never let him go again, but he now feared what would happen should he even attempt to get so close.

It seemed that Mustang was affected by this sight as well. There was a disgusted, fiery look in his eyes as he looked at his subordinate and Al, just from one glance, could tell what he was thinking - when they faced the man that did this to Edward, he would be burned to a crisp in an instant.

Once he was completely under, the doctor leaned over and carefully rolled him onto his back, letting his arm fall loosely to his side. "I'll have to check to make sure he didn't tear open his injuries," she muttered to herself as she rolled up Ed's shirt and carefully peeled off the bandage across his stomach.

Al gasped. A word had been carved across his stomach, the skin around the letters bright red with infection and horrible swollen.

 _Jason._

* * *

 _Short chapter is short, but I was getting tired of writing, deleting, and rewriting. Also, I kind of like the note that it ends on._

 _Anyways, please follow/favorite if you liked it and reviews are always appreciated! Tell me what you think - what should I do better? What should come next?_


	4. Chapter 4

_So yeah, we all know by now that I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. Instead of wishing I did maybe I'll get a hobby._

* * *

The room was as silent as a graveyard. Al and Mustang sat on opposite ends of the bed, staring down at the small boy unconscious between them. They were at a loss for words. The sight of the horrible scars on Edward's stomach still seared in both their minds and flashed beneath their eyes. They couldn't stop seeing it, they couldn't look at Ed and not remember what was under his shirt.

The only thing that moved in the room was the doctor, who was busy examining photos and writing things down in a notebook. Every so often, she glanced up before her pen started moving again, but the weight of the air seemed to muffle the scratch and the two mourners didn't hear it at all.

Suddenly, Mustang bunched his hand in a fist and slammed it down on his knee.

"Damn it, Al," he growled, his head falling into his other hand, "I'm sorry. I knew it was bad, but this..."

As he trailed off, Al noticed that the doctor glanced up from her notes and gave Mustang a strange look before returning to her work, her shoulders slightly tense. Despite the fact that he was mildly curious as to what she was thinking, he didn't pry. He just simply stared down at his sleeping brother.

He seemed so much smaller then usual, his skin cracked and pale and his body thin and weak. Al reached forward instinctively to touch his shoulder, but froze when the lines on Ed's face deepened as his eyebrows burrowed into his eyelids. He started to tremble a little and his hands unconsciously grabbed onto the bed sheets. Al watched with a mixture of horror and deep pity as tears collected in his brother's eyes and he clenched his teeth against the nightmare that he was no doubt experiencing.

"D-don't touch me," he moaned.

He couldn't take it anymore. Without even thinking, Alphonse stood up, his armor clanking loudly as he knocked the chair away and stormed out of the room. He couldn't even see where he was going and almost crashed into the door before his arm managed to fling it open without his command. He had to get away, as far away as possible. He couldn't be in this room any longer with the knowledge that this had happened, that his brother had been hurt in that way, that the once strong person that he had looked up to for years had been reduced to this; shivering and crying against demons in his sleep.

Before he knew it, he was in a storage closet down the hall from Ed's hospital room. He sat against the wall and curled into himself, just as he had done the day after it had rained. When he had finally found Ed and he had thought that this would have been a joyful reunion, where he would comfort his brother after the pain he had braved and Ed would be happy and relieved to see his younger brother again. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this. He had no idea what to do.

A knock on the door jerked him out of his thoughts.

"Alphonse?" It was Mustang. "One of the nurses told me you ran in here. I'm coming in."

The door opened slowly, the light from the hallways spilling into the dark, empty room. Roy Mustang appeared in the entrance, his face hidden beneath shadow, but Al could almost feel the fire leaping out of his eyes. He stepped forward and crouched down next to the younger brother. Alphonse couldn't bring himself to look at the Colonel's face, shame burning into his soul and a hollow feeling of uselessness weighed him down further.

It seemed that Mustang was at a loss for words as well. After all, what could he even say after a sight like that? But there had to be something, some words that could pass between them. There was too much silence here, so Al asked the only question that came to his mind.

"What are we going to do?"

He hated how his voice sounded, so small and weak. It was his time to step up and be the stronger one yet here he was, hiding in a storage closet, wrapped in his own grief while his brother fought demons in his sleep. And he hated that he had to be the stronger one. Why did it have to be necessary to protect Ed, the one who was always so strong, who could fight the world with his fiery spirit? What could have happened to break him so horribly?

And he knew Mustang heard all of his emotions in that one simple question and that he didn't have the answers either.

The man leaned his head back against the wall and took a deep breath. Alphonse noticed that he was shaking. For a moment he was caught off guard. Out of all the impossible things that could have come from this situation, the composed, cold Colonel was the last person he would have expected to break first.

"Colonel?" he asked, hesitantly, his voice barely a whisper.

He thought that he hadn't heard him as he didn't respond immediately, but then his body stilled and he opened his eyes. He didn't look at the younger brother though, merely stared off into the distance, his gaze unfocused.

"Whatever we do," he muttered, his voice blank but composed, "we aren't going to give up. We'll see what happens these next few days and respond accordingly."

Alphonse looked away, choosing not to pry into his well-being and how he was handling the whole thing. He also didn't respond - while the Colonel spoke sense, he couldn't help but wish that he had given him some comforting words, reassurance that everything was going to be okay and that Ed would get better. Instead, he had left it open because, in all truth, they didn't know what they could do or what was going to happen. If Ed really was as broken as they thought, there was always a chance that they could never put the pieces back again.

* * *

The next few days in the hospital were filled with confusion, worry, and lots of waiting. So much waiting that Mustang thought he was going to go crazy. He sat either in the waiting room or by Ed's bedside every day, but for all the good it did he might as well have been keeping company with a rock. Whenever he wasn't sedated, Ed was unresponsive and closed away, refusing to even look at both Mustang and his brother. He refused to eat or drink and constantly got nervous when doctors and nurses came into the room. It was driving Roy insane with worry. Eventually, on the fifth day of this, Lieutenant Hawkeye burst into the hospital waiting room, where Mustang and Al sat together in silence, grabbed him by the arm, and dragged him to his apartment to get dressed, despite his many protests.

"I. Am. Your. Superior!" he yelled as she threw him into her car.

"I am aware, sir." she responded in her usual firm voice. "However, you've been putting off work for too long to sit around that hospital. You can't do anything to help anyone by just sitting and waiting for something to happen."

He knew that she was right, although he didn't really appreciate being almost carried out of the hospital by his subordinate nor did he like being separated from where all the information was. He needed to know how Ed was doing. This was all his fault, after all.

Besides, he didn't want to go back to the office. He knew what was waiting for him there.

Hawkeye didn't know. This was his fault, his burden to bear. She had saved him from many things throughout the years, but this was one thing he had to face alone. Of course, this made her no less merciless when it came to his work so he eventually found himself in his military uniform, sitting behind his desk, with a thick stack of paper sitting in front of him. He noticed the yellow envelopes scattered through the pile and cringed.

"This is all the mail that came in while you were planning the raid, sir," Hawkeye gestured towards the pile. "I suggest you start as soon as possible."

Roy nodded, swallowing the lump that was sticking in his throat and reached for the first thing on the pile, which just so happened to be one of the envelopes.

Just as he was about to close his hand around the thing, the phone on his desk rang. Thankful for the interruption, he immediately whipped his hand and away and picked up the receiver.

"This is Colonel Roy Mustang speaking," he spoke, trying to make his voice as commanding and composed as possible.

"Hello, Colonel, this is Doctor Ramona Kott from Central Hospital."

His heart skipped a beat. Was something wrong? He was about to respond, but the doctor started talking again, cutting off his attempt to ask what was the matter.

"I'm sorry for bothering you so soon after you left, but I need you to come back to the hospital. Nothing's wrong, I just need to discuss a few things about Edward's treatment with you."

"Uh, yes, I'll be there right away," he replied, a gleam of triumph in his eyes as he saw the Lieutenant look at him with her eyebrows raised. He set the receiver down and stood from his desk. "Doctor Kott has requested I return to the hospital."

Hawkeye nodded slowly, her gaze full of suspicion, but not daring to question him. Mustang knew that she was conflicted between her desire to see him working and being productive and her worry for Ed. She was just as concerned with his wellbeing as he was, but she had a different way of showing it.

"I'll accompany you there, sir," she stood up from her desk, setting down the work she was scanning. She didn't turn to leave, however, instead grabbing some of the stack she had left on Mustang's desk. "I'll just bring some of this with me and work through it in the meantime."

Not really caring to argue with her, he shrugged and led the way out of the building. Despite all the time he spent there, he was eager to get back to the hospital.

* * *

Mustang couldn't believe his eyes. There was more paperwork in his hands, but none from Hawkeye's pile and not at all what he was expecting on his return. The doctor was staring at him from over the papers, waiting his reaction, which was slow incoming. He had to read the papers over a few times before he really registered what was on them. Once he was finally able to comprehend what they were saying, he looked up at the doctor in confusion, needing further explanation.

"Release forms? He's been here for less then a week."

"Yes," Ramona sighed, looking at the entrance to Ed's room behind her, "it hasn't been long. However, we have been able to treat his injuries enough that he can, technically, leave. In any other case, though, I would never let the patient leave so early in their recovery stage. It's just that this environment doesn't seem to be doing any good for Edward, mentally. He's constantly stressed by all the movement, which isn't good for both his mind and his body, and, as I'm sure you've noticed, he's unresponsive to pretty much everyone. We think that being in a more familiar environment, or, at the very least, a more quiet one, would put his mind more at ease and allow him to open up a little bit. Of course, I would still be coming around to wherever he lives for frequent checkups."

Mustang nodded, sense returning to his brain. Although he wasn't too comfortable with Ed leaving the hospital so soon, he could see the sense in what the doctor was saying. Ed had been really stressed out and he hadn't said a word since the first day he had woken up. Nobody dared to try and push him too hard to get a response out of him so they had stayed quiet while by his side. He merely acted as though they weren't there.

"Where will he be staying, though," Mustang wondered aloud. The boys had no home, of course, they had burned it down. And taking him back to Resembool at all was out of the question - moving him for that distance and so far away from his doctor was risky to the point of stupid. They couldn't have him camping out in a hotel room or the dorms for the military, considering that there would be too much going on outside the rooms.

"It would have to be somewhere close by," Kott responded, "and it would have to be somewhere where he would be safe and around trusted people."

He sighed, seeing one option as the most suitable, though not his favorite, personally.

"I guess he could stay with me. I've got a house not far from Central Command that the state gave me when I transferred here. It's pretty small, but there should be enough room for the two boys."

Kott nodded and gestured towards the papers. "Well, if you could fill those out then, we'll have Edward discharged in an hour or so. We have to do some final checkups and change his bandages before he can go."

Mustang nodded and turned to Hawkeye as Kott disappeared into Ed's room. "Looks like I'll be out of the office for today," he said, making sure to let in a sliver of apology into his voice. However much he resented being dragged into the office, he knew that she was trying and he appreciated her and what she was trying to do.

She nodded and gave him a quick salute. "I understand, sir. Will you be needing my assistance later?"

"Yes, I would appreciate it."

"Very good, sir. I'll just do some work before we go."

Roy nodded and sat down next to her at the benches outside of the hospital room. In silence, they worked together, Roy on the release papers and Riza on whatever she had brought with her. He was so engrossed in both reading every word of the paperwork and his own thoughts that he only noticed the yellow envelope when Riza was sliding it open.

"No, stop!" He reached out and grabbed it out of her hands as fast as he could, but not before she got a quick peek at the contents. He knew because her face had suddenly drained of color.

"Colonel..." she said, slowly, "what...what was that?"

"..." Mustang opened his mouth to respond, but found that his words were caught in his throat. The air between them had suddenly grown cold and all the noise around them seemed to have ceased. He couldn't explain to her - how could he? How could something like that be put into words? So he settled with a shake of his head, the explanation turning his stomach.

"You've been getting those for weeks. Are they...are they all like that?"

He nodded.

There was a moment of silence in which he saw the same look of horror mirrored on her face as he had once had on his. It was disturbing seeing the Lieutenant losing her composure like that. She had always been the firm, strong woman, held back by nothing, moved by little. And this, one look at the envelope, had completely drained the faith and confidence in her eyes.

Thankfully, before she could say anything else, the door next to them opened and Doctor Kott stepped out. They instantly put their work to the side and jumped to their feet.

"Well, he's ready to go. Do you have the release papers?"

"Oh, right." Mustang quickly snatched them off the chair, turned to the last page and scrawled a hasty signature before turning it over.

"Alright," she continued, "then it's all in order. If you'd like to come in, Ed got more responsive when I told him that we were moving him."

Mustang felt a rush of happiness at that and followed the doctor into the room where Ed and Al were sitting. The older brother perked up when he saw the three enter, his eyes looking clearer then they ever had in the last five days.

"Are we leaving now?" he asked, his voice hoarse. The doctor nodded.

"Yes, all the forms are filled out. You've been officially discharged."

There was a moment when Mustang could have sworn that the fire had returned to his eyes, that the old Ed was finally peaking through. He had always hated extended stays in hospitals, after all. But then the cloudy anxiety returned as the nurse walked in, a wheelchair rolling in front of her.

"Wait," he paused, "why do I have to be in that? I want to walk out on my own."

"No," the doctor commanded, bringing the wheelchair up to the side of his bed. "You may be free from the hospital, but you're still not strong enough to move around on your own. Just for now we'll be taking you out in this."

Ed gulped, then looked towards Al, his eyes wide with fear. "Al...don't make them..."

"You have to brother," Al responded, quietly, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder. He flinched initially at the touch but then seemed to relax a little bit. He took a deep breath then turned to the doctor.

"Okay," he huffed, "fine. But I want to move myself around."

"If you can managed, then I guess you can."

"Of course I can manage!"

Without another second's wait, he flung the covers off of his legs. Al immediately stood up, ready to help him should he need assistance. However, Ed didn't have too much trouble sliding from the bed into the wheelchair. He cringed for a moment as the bandages covering his body were upset, but then he relaxed. He seemed to have been emboldened by his success and grabbed the wheels with earnest. However, it seemed that it was more difficult then he thought and they had to watch him slowly and painfully move the wheel so that he could turned towards the door.

He pushed forward hard with one wheel at a time and got the wheelchair rolling just a little. By the time he reached the entrance to the room, he was already panting with the effort. When Alphonse stepped up behind him and grabbed the handles, he didn't protest.

"Sorry, brother," Al whispered, "we'll work on that, I promise."

Ed said nothing, but cast his eyes downwards. He gripped his arms and didn't look at any of them as he was wheeled away.

* * *

Edward didn't protest or struggled against anyone's help again as they got him to Mustang's house. He either didn't have the energy or he had completely given up. Either way, they got him there without much difficulty, besides one incident where they hit a bump and he started getting panicky and flailed in his seat. He only calmed when they had stopped the car and Mustang had talked him through the anxiety attack.

When they got to Mustang's house, he had been shown his room. He didn't say a word to any of them as he was settled into bed and instructed to sleep. It was late and he hadn't had a proper, natural rest since they had gotten back. Alphonse, Roy, and Riza thought that he might actually sleep in a real bed and had left him alone.

In the morning, Mustang arrived at his room and slowly opened the door, trying not to startled him.

"Ed, it's me," he announced, quietly. Once the door was open and light was flooding into the room, he initially panicked at the sight of the empty bed. But then he spotted a small form curled up in the corner of the room, his long golden hair flowing over his legs. His arm was wrapped tightly around the empty automail port. At the sound of Mustang's voice, he raised his head, showing off the deep circles under his eyes and squinted through the light, his irises dull and tired. With the look he gave him, along with the thinness of his muscles, the bandages covering his body, and the baggy pajamas that had once fit him perfectly almost falling off his shoulders, he looked like a ragged animal close to death that had completely lost its ability to fight back.

"Hey," he rasped.

At first, Roy didn't know how to respond; the reality of the situation had hit him like a car. The doctor had told him that Ed was recovering, but this...this wasn't what recovery looked like, right? Then again, he had been missing for two months and they'd barely been able to get through to him in the past five days. He had to be patient. However much he wanted it to happen, Ed wasn't going to go back to his normal self in just a week after what he'd been through. Roy shrugged off his shock and gave him a forced smile. "Good morning. Al's waiting for you in the kitchen. He made some breakfast for you."

A glimmer of fear flashed through Ed's eyes, but then was gone in a moment. "Okay, I'll be there in a minute."

Not fooled, Mustang walked up to him and offered him his hand. "No, the eggs are going to get cold. You should eat them now while they taste good."

Edward looked down and huddled himself tighter into a ball. For a moment, Mustang feared that he would ignore him and refuse to go but then he relaxed and carefully picking himself up off the floor, ignoring Mustang's hand. He glanced at the wheelchair that was sitting next to his bed and, after a second's hesitation, fell into it. He averted Mustang's gaze as the older man climbed over behind it and pushed him out of the room.

Roy didn't like this; Ed looked like he hadn't slept. In fact, he had a nagging feeling that Ed didn't even try. He wanted, no, he needed to know what had happened. If he was going to be any help for him at all, that was the information that he had to have. There was no way, though, that he could even bring himself to ask Ed about anything at this point. Once again, he had to remind himself to be patient.

He wheeled Ed into the kitchen, where Al was standing, his back to them as he finished making food. As he heard the wheels squeaking, he turned around, a pan filled with scrambled eggs in his hand.

"Good morning, brother," he beamed. If Mustang didn't know the two so well, he would have thought that the happiness in his voice was genuine.

"Hey, Al," Ed huffed, still trying no to look at anyone as he pulled himself out of the wheelchair, cringing at his injuries before settling himself in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Al stepped over and placed a plate of eggs in front of him.

Mustang tried to be casual as he grabbed the coffee pot and poured himself a mug while still keeping his eyes on Ed as the boy lifted his fork and scooped some of the egg. For a second, he really thought that Ed was going to eat it. But then the fork froze.

The two of them watched as Ed's hand started to shake. He brought the fork closer, but then it fell back as he slammed his mouth shut. It almost looked like he was trying to fight some instinct as he continuously opened and closed his mouth. His whole body was shaking with effort before he finally slammed the fork down onto the plate and buried his head in his hand.

"I'm sorry," he choked, his voice heavy with tears. "I'm sorry..."

Mustang stepped forward and instinctively placed a hand gently on his shoulder, softly rubbing his arm. Ed froze and Mustang stepped back as the boy jumped from his seat, knocking his hand away. His head was bowed and turned away from him so Mustang couldn't see his face. He was about to apologize when Ed suddenly, with surprising speed and mobility for his condition, turned and barreled past him, disappearing into the first door he could find, which happened to be the bathroom.

Al and Mustang were left alone in the kitchen, shocked and lost for words.

* * *

 _Rough, calloused hands ran across his shoulders and down his back before gripping his sides. He didn't know these hands or the man that was behind him. He shivered with disgust as he felt something wet sliding up his spine, the man's warm, alcohol spiked breath following it. He struggled in vain - his hands were too tightly bound and his legs were pinned by the stranger's._

 _He didn't want to be feeling this, he didn't want this to be happening. He thought that Jason had done his worst, that he had thrown out all the stops. But this...he couldn't even imagine that this was going to be happening to him. He tried not to scream with pain and anguish as the man behind him destroyed what little dignity he had left. And all the while, through the pain and the anguish, his hands roamed his body, caressing him with a falsely tender touch, leaving a trail of shame across his skin._

 _"Stop...please..."he groaned, but he knew it was futile. The man behind him only laughed and continued with even more spirit then before. The world became nothing but suffering as he finished his work on the young boy. Finally, he stepped away and he was left, his body falling limp against the stone wall, the cold material sending shivers up his spine. He could feel blood running down his legs but he paid it no mind, his mind completely blank from the shock, tears streaming down his face without control._

 _And then he felt warmth against his back and the touch again against his shoulder, a different hand this time, and he screamed as the torture began anew._

The memories were flooding in again, uncontrollable, washing across him like the ocean tide constantly knocking him off his feet. Edward leaned against the wall of the bathroom, his breath coming in gasps and his heart beating faster and faster by the second. His stomach was flipping as he remembered that touch, like fire against his skin, and he could feel it again. He knew that it wasn't them, that it was Mustang and he would never hurt him. But still, it had been so much like then...

And as the tide bowled over him once again, bile rose in his throat and he threw himself towards the toilet, gripping the sides of the basin as he vomited what little he had in his stomach. There was barely anything to throw up so he sat there heaving, his stomach groaning in protest, before he finally collapsed on the floor, curling himself into a ball. The tile floor felt good against his skin which had grown hot during the flashbacks.

Laying there, trying to shove away the memories, he could feel every scar on his body like it was fresh and every memory accompanying every wound danced just beneath his consciousness. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to chase them away and he only let out the breath he was holding when they had finally retreated.

But then the guilt settled in as he heard a soft knock at the door. "Ed? Are you okay?"

It was Mustang. Tears collected at the corners of his eyes, but he wiped them away quickly. He hated this; he hated how weak he had become, how much trouble he was causing for everyone. He had thought when he first woke up and realized he was back that he was finally saved from that place, that he was going to be okay. But now here he was, almost a week later, curled up on the bathroom floor, unable to eat, unable to sleep, unable to feel the slightest touch without being overwhelmed by every single memory that was associated with just a little touch.

He hated how much of a burden he was.

* * *

 _Oh hello. Has it really been a month since my last update? Sorry about that wait, life kind of started to kick me in the ass and I couldn't, for my life, get through this chapter. I think I rewrote the breakdown three times before I was somewhat happy with it. Anyways here's some of your angst and more insight into Ed's torture. I wonder what happened to him *sarcasm*_

 _Anyways, as usual, if you enjoyed, feel free to give it a favorite or a follow and please write me reviews. I want to know what you think of the story! What am I doing right/wrong? What should I do better in the future?_

 _I don't think I've said this before, but thank you so much for reading everything so far. It means a lot that so many people have taken time out of their day to read this mess! Thank you!_

 _-Silver Winter_


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

Heya! Thanks to everyone that's been reading this story! I really appreciate that people have stopped to give my writing a favorite/follow/review. As a writer, it means a lot when I know people are reading and enjoying my work! So thanks a lot for that!

However, it pains me to say that I will no longer be working on this story anymore. This fanfiction came out of a very dark, twisted part of myself that came up during a difficult part of my life. Now that I'm in calmer waters, however, I'm not only unable to continue writing, but honestly ashamed that I would ever come up with a story as horrible as this (not in terms of writing but in terms of what the heck im writing). You may be saying "yeah, but it wasn't _that_ dark." Oh, you should have seen the outline for the next few chapters.

I know a lot of people might be disappointed that I'm not continuing the story, and I'm really sorry about that. Like I said before, even if I hate that I came up with this, I still really appreciate that you've taken the time to read it and enjoy my work. So, seriously, thank you to everyone that's read this far.

Although I'm ending this story and not ever writing another like it (hopefully), I am still into dark, angsty stuff. Just not...quite this dark. If you're a fan of Pokemon, I've got an interesting story brewing and I'll be posting the first chapter within the next couple of weeks. So, if you're interested, keep an eye out!

Once again, thank you to everyone that showed interest in my work and I'm sorry that I'm shutting this down. I hope to see you in the next fic!


End file.
